Elsa sat in her office, at the massive desk of ice she'd made to replace the wooden one her magic had destroyed. That she had destroyed. Because right now, all her memories were taking her back to that day. To learning that her sister had been kidnapped. Understanding that the steadfast captain Ragnar would never come back. A feature much more of Anna's childhood than her own—at least, the person had been. Elsa had known more of the soldier, captain of the palace guard. How could she write earnestly of his loss and its meaning when she couldn't properly define it to herself?

Marshal Gerhardt had been the one to bring it up, quietly, at the end of the grievances earlier in the afternoon. He had gently reminded her of the ceremony she was supposed to be arranging, both for Captain Ragnar, and for Captain Erikson. Her houscarl. She stilled her hand as the pen tapped against the paper, blotting ink around the edge. She wanted to write a sincere, earnest letter to his family, both as a form of consolation, and to invite them—or their representative—to the medal ceremony. But right now she was feeling almost as scattered as Anna sometimes appeared.

With a soft sigh, she placed the pen down beside the papers, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. The fingers of her left hand worried at the cross she wore beneath her dress. A little guidance would be nice. Then a tiny part of her mind—one that, of late, had taken on Thyrí's voice—told her she was asking in the wrong direction. There were other things she had reached out to. Reached out to, and been answered. She knew reaching out in that direction would be just as helpful as reaching for the Divine, in this case.

She opened her eyes and picked up the pen, writing with her left hand in that tight, precise manner for which her tutor had so praised her. She was very careful not to smudge the ink as her hand moved across the page.

I knew Captain Ragnar, not well of late, but certainly by reputation. He served well in the palace guards, and deserved both his high standing and the loyalty of his men. He was a friend and mentor to my sister, and a valued servant of the crown. He fell in the line of duty, saving the life of the royal princess, though unable to prevent her capture. This is not a slight against his memory, for even ten men may not have been able to prevent such an outcome. My sister tells me that he was brave, defiant to the last, unwilling to fall until his sworn duty was done.

I know there is a hole, in your family, in your lives, perhaps even in your very souls. I, too, have felt such loss. I know that words are not enough, and sometimes even actions pale into nothingness at the weight of what has happened, yet those are all that I can offer you at this time. Know also that my prayers are with you, and that the lateness of this message is a reflection upon my own grief, and other responsibilities, rather than any diminution upon his bravery and service.

There shall be a ceremony this Friday, where I shall personally bestow upon Captain Ragnar the Star of Arendelle, for his bravery and resolve against impossible odds. I would request that a family member, or your chosen representative, be present to receive the reward on his behalf. He was a good man, and the world is poorer for his loss.

–Elsa, Queen of Arendelle

It was—it would have to be—enough. She thought for a moment of adding more, of what she could remember of Ragnar, but somehow it seemed likely to diminish the message and its sincerity. With a soft sigh, Elsa lit the black sealing candle on her desk and retrieved the royal seal from its drawer. Moments later, and the envelope containing the letter was stamped with the seal of Arendelle. Then, with a fine brush and silver ink, she highlighted the points of the seal. It still seemed insufficient, and a flash of inspiration showed the most personal touch she could use.

Within the seal itself, a snowflake—her snowflake—just proud of the design, made of the thinnest, strongest ice she could manage. The magic within reached outwards, just a little further, tentative. She touched her finger to the design and felt a spark of power flow into it. The magic seemed happy, or perhaps wistful. She was still learning so much about it. But it was trying to help, and somehow she knew this symbol would not melt or thaw.

Elsa placed the letter in the rack reserved for urgent missives, knowing a courier would be called to deliver it personally.

Then it was time to deal with other, equally troubling, matters of state. Minister Johanssen had drafted a ledger for her, outlining what remained in the treasury, what could be expected in future trade, and the favours Arendelle was owed by border states such as Løkarna and Ahmstad. Also conservative projections about the harvest festival, and opening additional lines of trade with Spain. Cessation of trade with Weaseltown had hurt Arendelle's economy, though not as much as might have been expected—she knew they were lucky that the Spanish envoy was looking for trade during the coronation.

In the margins of the ledger were further notes, about the guilds, dues, taxes, and other minutia. Then, on further pages, a request for a new scribe for the council, salvage from the Weaseltown ships—those that the Westergard brothers hadn't named as prizes—and a question about increasing trade with the Southern Isles. There was a final note about the guilds' request for a new iron mine. She frowned. That was one of the last things she had discussed with Søren, on the council. Still, it was a promising venture—iron was always in demand, even for things as simple as nails—and it could be sold for export to other nations that had insufficient reserves.

All that was just reading the ledger. It took the better part of an hour to finish actually distributing the wealth of the kingdom in what she hoped was the proper fashion. So many competing interests, and coffers that—if not dangerously low, were still on the decline. Another sealed envelope, this time in the normal blue wax for official documents.

With all that done, it was time for a little reward. Re-reading the letter from Assam, whose royal princess she admitted she quite fancied. Some time ago a miniature had been included with the letter, and Elsa had understood the beauty of difference in a way she had never appreciated before. In their letters, in both Norwegian and Sanksrit, they were by turns risqué and coy. It had been an honest—and welcome—surprise to find out the royal princess shared some of her desires. Even if they might never meet in person, their correspondence always brought a smile to her face, and sometimes a blush to her cheeks.

She wrote first of her current worries, and then of her hopes for the future. Another question about certain customs of Assam, and, as it came to her, a request for another copy of a very particular book, with a brief explanation of the demise of the other volume. A very personal section followed, with the finale being the revelation of her roots as a seidr, and how much she was now learning about those ancient customs and magics. As she wrote that section, she felt the magic once again reach towards her, through the invisible centre, as if teasing her, or trying to catch her attention.

She let it, snowflakes forming in her hand, and she blew them in a glittering frost across her desk. She laughed at the frivolity, then finally took notice of the position of the sun. Perhaps an hour before dinner, or slightly more. Her work here could wait.

It was time to find Anna.

Anna was sitting in the castle library—what was left of it—and jotting down notes as she tried to make sense of a book on chemistry, and another on anatomy. Neither of which had any bearing on how Elsa had managed to stand the previous night. Or rather, they might have, if she knew what she was looking for, and could have used a third book as a reference on magic. The whole thing seemed to hover at the edge of her thoughts, tantalisingly out of reach, if she could just make the connection… but no.

There was something about reflexes—because when she'd tickled Elsa's foot, her leg had moved. Or twitched, at least. Elsa had no control over that, and hadn't felt anything, even as she'd watched it happen.

There was something about anatomy—because the lines of icy scales had traced around Elsa's legs and all the way up the base of her spine. Not around the front. And the lines went branching further around her thighs. The pattern had to mean something. Surely.

There was something about the ice itself—because tiny flakes of ice didn't just explode when people touched them. That was chemistry. Probably. Because even if it was magical in nature, Elsa's ice did seem remarkably similar to regular ice, discounting the fancy colours. That could just be something to do with optics to make it look that way.

The magic—that was what tied all these thoughts together, and she was still no closer to an answer about how Elsa had managed to stand. Because she wanted to surprise her sister with this brilliant revelation. But of course, that revelation remained completely out of reach. Even Elsa didn't know. But there had to be something that could tie all these things together—because outside of stories on the page, wishes like hers didn't come true like that. It would be hard work, and study, and practice that saw them through. Even better if it meant they could spend more time together as sisters.

Anna continued to scribble in her journal, still annoyed at her poor penmanship with her left hand. That was going to take months. Maybe even years. She wrote those thoughts down too. How they made her feel. Because right now, with the old trolls on the loose, using memory magic as a weapon, she didn't want to take chances. For Elsa's sake especially. The kingdom had already seen a distraught Elsa, and the damage that had caused. Despair—or worse, Anger—could be catastrophic.

More to write down.

Which was when Rask bit her on the finger.

"Hey!"

The little snow ferret looked at her in annoyance. She sucked the tip of her finger, seeing the little dents in the skin.

"What was that for?"

So Rask did a little swirling dance, darting under her papers and between the books, looking away from the desk the whole time.

"You can go exploring if you want." Anna made a little shooing motion to try and encourage him.

Rask continued to scurry around the desk, taking a moment to run up Anna's arm, then leap back to the desk, turning back to look at her when he landed.

"Hmm…" Anna met her snow ferret's gaze. "You want me to follow you?"

And with that Rask scrambled down the side of the desk, heading straight for the door. He stoped when Anna remained at the desk.

"I'm trying to put all this together. I want to help Elsa get better. Or stand, and walk, maybe—if she can, and it's not too hard. But maybe it is, because she ate so much after standing for a few seconds… I'm missing something, I know it, and it's got to do with her magic. Ismakt, she said. So I'm staying here, trying to figure this out."

Rask chirruped, then pointed his nose towards the door, just standing there. Waiting.

Anna looked down at her journal, and the other scribbled notes she had. Her rambling thoughts covered almost two pages, but aside from a few underlined insights, she really wasn't making progress. She huffed, getting up from the desk.

"Okay, let's go." She smiled, slinging a little bag over her shoulder that she hurriedly stuffed her journal and a pencil into. "Maybe a walk will help me think."

"It really might." Anna looked around and saw Elsa smiling at her from the far end of the hall. Rask suddenly turned from the wall and bounded towards Elsa, before clambering up the side of her chair and curling up in her lap.

Anna hurried over, giving the snow ferret a dark look as he seemed to smile at her. "I thought you wanted to go exploring."

Rask chirruped, then lay back down, seeming perfectly content in Elsa's lap. Elsa just laughed, absently stroking his snowy fur.

"I swear he does it on purpose," Anna gave her sister a questioning look. "You didn't plan it this way, did you?"

"No…" then Elsa frowned, obviously considering something. "Or, not that I know. But the magic itself might have? I'm not sure."

"Speaking of that magic, do you feel like practicing again tonight?"

"I—I might not, tonight." Anna watched as Elsa looked away. "Not after last night."

"It wasn't dangerous, and I have to admit it did look pretty impressive in the morning. Well, noon, with the sun shining into the ballroom like that. But I guess it took a lot out of you, because I saw how much of the kitchen you went through, and you're still just as skinny, so I really gotta wonder where it all even goes—"

"That's it!" Elsa managed to cut her off mid-spiel.

"Wait, what?" Elsa's exclamation had left Anna very confused.

"Where it goes," Elsa spread her hands, tracing some kind of pattern. "Or maybe. It's just a theory, but it might explain some things. All that magic I used just to stand, and stop the storm—what if it took some of my energy, somehow. That's why I was so tired. And then you keep saying I don't eat that much—and not just you, either; it's okay. But I'm pretty healthy, and I always have enough energy through the day for all my duties. What if… what if all this time, I've been taking energy from my magic without even realising?"

Anna gave her sister a confused look, before everything began to fall into place in her own mind. Because it made sense. A lot of sense, in the strange way that it was only slightly beyond what seemed possible—and that was the realm that the magic seemed to work in. "It could be true," Anna agreed slowly. "But testing that theory is probably dangerous."

"It would be dangerous," Elsa didn't hold back. "Which means trying to use my magic to stand—or walk—could hurt me in ways we hadn't considered before. I know, Anna, I know. But any of this, with this new theory, I think I'd have to consult with Doctor Arnesen. But normal magic practice is probably fine. We'll talk about it after dinner, alright?"

"Okay," Anna pushed her questions down for the meantime. "So, what now?"

"Tell me about your afternoon; I've been dealing with the royal correspondence, and needed a break."

"Honestly, I think you just ruined several hours of my research. I was trying to figure out how you did it—how you could stand—and now you come up with this new theory and I have to re-think everything I've been trying to go over, and there honestly aren't enough books to use for reference, especially about magic, and I know it's there, I can feel it, but I just… I can't… can't quite… put it all together."

"And it frustrates you to tears." Anna looked through slightly blurry eyes to see Elsa's smile, so soft and caring. "Come on, we'll steal something from the kitchens, then you can help with the rest of my work this afternoon."

"Huh?"

"My desk is still filled with letters that need responses, and I'd like your help sorting through and replying to everything." Elsa's smile was a little too wide. "You did say you wanted to help."

"Help you, recover, and understand magic, and maybe plan festivals. Not running a kingdom." Anna shook her head, looking away. "Besides, we both know I'm not very good at it."

"Only because you lack practice."

"But what if I mess up?" Anna couldn't keep the plaintive note from her voice. "I already lost us the head guildsman."

"No, you didn't." Elsa's voice was suddenly firm. "If anyone should be blamed for that, it's me. But with what happened, I don't think anyone could have convinced him to stay. Søren leaving wasn't your mistake."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"Fine. Then let me ask something that might sting: If I thought your mistakes were so damaging, would I ask you to help again?"

"I… umm… maybe?" Anna drew the word out. "You're my sister, after all, and you love me—but I'm not really sure where you're going with this."

"I trust you." Elsa was earnest, uncompromising. "I trust that if you made a mistake, you would tell me. I also trust that my kingdom, and council, are filled with reasonable people that would forgive honest mistakes. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Anna met her sister's gaze for a moment, then looked away again. She really didn't have a good reply.

It was late in the evening when Kristoff heard the knock at his door. It was obvious that it was Anna, just from the way she knocked, with that slight hesitation between the first and second.

"Come in."

She was in her nightgown, hair slightly messed about, and she had that intense look in her eyes. Rask was also there, scurrying from shoulder to shoulder. She gave the ferret a dubious look before entering. "You're just taking me to Kristoff?"

At which point Rask chirruped, then scurried down her arm and leapt to the floor, dashing over to the hidden entrance she'd used some nights prior. Kristoff looked at the little snow ferret, then back up to Anna, who was just standing in the doorway.

"What are you two looking for?"

"I don't know," Anna just shrugged, finally entering the room and closing the door behind her. "Rask wanted to go exploring earlier, but we got a little sidetracked, then dinner, and dessert, and magic practice, and I was going to do some more reading, then he ran off, so I kinda had to find him. He's been leading me all over the castle, but only going into a handful of rooms. I think he's looking for something."

"Maybe a rabbit?"

"What?"

"Ferrets hunt things like rabbits, and mice and rats. Sometimes small birds too. Elsa made it as much like a ferret as she knew, didn't she?"

"I…" Anna started, then stopped, clearly considering the thought. Kristoff watched as she turned to Rask, kneeling in front of the snow ferret. "This isn't just because you're hungry?"

The little snow ferret chirrupped in annoyance, then head-butted the wall where the hidden entrance was. Anna opened the wall, and gestured for the ferret to continue. Kristoff noticed she was wearing a very different smile when she turned back to him. A smile, and a slight blush.

"It would be nice to share a bed again," she admitted. "More than just sleeping, too…"

Kristoff gave her a questioning look.

"Not that—not all the way." She gave him a smile halfway between lustful and bashful. "But just being touched was nice. And touching you was something new. If… if you're okay with us doing that again?"

Kristoff nodded. "You're finding ways to surprise me. Even more than being led around by a ferret made of magical ice."

Anna giggled. "That's gotta be hard to beat."

"It's not easy," he picked her up from behind, enough to kiss her hair. "But you're special. And light."

"Hey!" But she was playing along, turning to try and kiss him. He let her down, leaning over slightly so she could. "There's stuff we should talk about too—"

"If this is about the mountains…" It wasn't a discussion—or argument—he wanted to have right now.

"Sort of, not really, kinda something like it—" Anna's words came in a rapid stream as she pulled off her nightgown. "—but also, around you having now. No, wait. Having you around now. I'll do what I can for us to both have fun. When you come back, we can have more."

As she leaned over to fold the nightgown he gave her a gentle smack on the backside. "You're just teasing me."

"Oh no," he smile was far too large. "I fully intend to do debaucherous and lascivious things with you tonight. Things known only by unchaste maidens. Supposedly."

"That does sound fun." Kristoff made sure to stress the word as he undid his sleeping shirt, lying back down, and pulling Anna down next to him. With one hand he began to softly trace swirling lines around Anna's breasts, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing changed. "Are you okay, really?"

"I'm fine," With her hand she rested his firmly against her breast. "A bit frazzled from all the magic research and following Rask and other stuff today." She sighed softly. "But I really do want this moment with you. Just us."

"I like it when it's just us, too," He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

Then he squeezed firmly, appreciating the firmness of her breast for a moment before slowly walking his fingers down towards her navel. Her breath was suddenly shallow, waiting for something. Knowing she was waiting for something. Then his fingers struck, a rapid, scattered rhythm, making her squirm and squeal in delight. Shifting slightly, he pushed har back down, onto the pillows, then just lay next to her for a quiet moment.

"And you call me a tease."

Kristoff said nothing, letting his hand wander, gently tracing around her hips, feeling the slight shiver as his other hand pressed gently into her waist, not quite tickling her again. Then he felt the warmth of her hand against his stomach, toying with the waistband of his pants.

"May I?" The way she asked…

"It's only fair." He laughed softly, kissing her on the cheek. "Accusing me of teasing you."

She squeezed slightly, then slowly started moving her hand. He caught her smile from the corner of his eyes. Up and down, but so very slowly. "Who's teasing who now?"

A tight squeeze was his only answer, making him shiver. "And shouldn't your hands be doing something?"

"Like this?" He shuffled over slightly, taking a breast in each hand. Then one hand moved lower, tugging gently at the fiery curls above her entrance. "Or maybe this?"

Another squeeze, and her hand started moving slightly faster. "You're big." Her voice was somewhat distant, but he felt her shuffle closer, turning to kiss him. "I'm… not."

"I like it—you being smaller." Kristoff pulled her into a tight hug, accidentally pinning her arm. He saw the confusion in her face. "Oh… that. I guess that might be uncomfortable. But you said not tonight."

"I did," Anna started moving her arm again, somewhat awkwardly between them. "But I'm thinking out loud, kinda. I want to, one day—and especially if we ever want children—but I'm also a little bit scared."

"I'm right here, and if you say stop, I will." Kristoff rolled onto his back, letting them both relax. His fingers played with the tangled curls between her legs. Her fingers tapped and stroked along his shaft, under his pants.

"But this is enough, for now?" She seemed so worried, a strange tremor in her voice. He gave her a smile, and a deep, drawn out kiss.

"If it's enough for you, it's enough for me. I was afraid of pushing you, remember—not sure I'd earned the right to touch you like this." He suited action to words by teasing a finger around her, between those sensitive folds, not quite entering.

"Tease…" she stuck out her tongue. "But I'm glad I did push you that time."

"And this time?" he gave her a half-smile, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I'm asking, not pushing." Her hand moved slightly, and she struggled for a moment with the waistband of his pants, pulling them down enough to free his manhood. "Besides, you're not complaining right now…"

"You are holding on to something rather important…" Kristoff let the smile into his voice.

"I can do more than just hold on."

After, they simply laid there for a time, exploring each other's bodies. There was time to think, and to appreciate what all those touches meant. That was him. Anna, of course, was still talking. After several mumbled starts, he realised she was talking about was more important than he had thought. Or at least she had moved to something more important. Kristoff sat up slightly, resting on his elbows, and turned to her as she talked.

"…now Elsa wants us to be envoys to the trolls—your trolls, the good ones—and I'm not quite sure what that means. I mean, negotiations and stuff, trade deals, rights. Who gets what, things we can provide for them—can we, actually? Stuff like that, but I don't know anything about troll culture, except that they like trying to marry us, and serve strong drink and weird food at gatherings. Oh, and they mostly keep to themselves, and legends say something about raising changeling children, but I really don't think that's a thing and… oh."

She turned to him, an earnest look in her eyes.

"Kristoff, can you tell me about the trolls?" She held up her hand. "Sorry, that sounded wrong. It's not meant to be spying or research or like that…"

"Would you like to try again?"

"Thank you." He saw the smile there, both chagrined and appreciative. "Kristoff, will you tell me about your family?"

In that instant he hated the understanding of using the right words to ask questions—knowing that Kai's lessons weren't going away. But it was also strange that no one else had asked that before. Even his fellow ice harvesters weren't too inclined to ask many questions like that. Even Elsa, looking for answers to magical questions, hadn't asked that question. And here was Anna, so innocent, asking—and finding a kind way to ask, instead of making it about royal duties.

It took him a long time to put his thoughts together and realise that, more and more, he was actually in love with Anna. None of it was despite her hijinks, or strange, scatterbrained nature. It was all because of it.

"Uh… Kristoff?" she was tugging at his arm. "You didn't fall asleep there did you?"

"Sleepy, yes," he yawned widely. "But I was thinking where to start, actually."

"I hear the beginning is good…"